Outlaw Blues
by LogicBomb.32
Summary: RETITLED: Maybe she just needed to move on, accept the fact that Emily was gone, gone and not coming back. But she couldn't.  Tags for anything past Lauren but nothing past the end of season six.
1. Hands Up

**Title: Hands Up **

**Author: LogicBomb.32 **

**Ships: Meh, JJ/Emily friendship and JJ/Hotch friendship **

**Summary: **Maybe she just needed to move on, accept the fact that Emily was gone, gone and not coming back. But she couldn't.

**Authors Note: **Started off as one thing and ended as something completely different, now I know that Rossi was the one to talk to JJ but in this fic it was Hotch, so just roll with it please. Go All The Way will be updated before the end of the week, just in case anyone was wondering.

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><p>It was totally against protocol.<p>

And yet she didn't care.

**Insert Username: **

But she still hesitated, her fingers hovering above the keys as she debated. It had to be something that her friend would recognize, but not something that anyone who happened to be scanning the internet could connect back to DC. A small smile played at the corners of her lips as a name came to her, and with that name, a memory

"_You've got to go home." _

_The blond media liaison looked up from the file she was scanning to see a familiar face in her doorway "So should you." She replied, setting her pen down and reclining into her chair. _

"_Creative response." Emily Prentiss said as she sat down in one of the chairs across the desk from JJ. _

"_Well" JJ started "it's late and witty comebacks are not incredibly important right now." _

"_Okay, so what is?" _

_JJ paused, pondering this for a moment before opening a desk drawer and pulling something out "These." _

"_Cheetos?" Emily asked, confused. _

"_Yes." JJ said as if this was completely normal "You want?" she asked, offering the open bag to her friend. _

"_I think I'll pass" Emily said, shaking her head and smiling as JJ grabbed a handful of puffs and ate them. _

"_Your loss." JJ said, though her voice was muffled from the food _

"_How many of those bags do you eat?" Emily asked after a minute of watching JJ devour the contents of the orange bag. _

"_Does it matter?" _

"_To me, no? But Hotch might be concerned about an addict working on the team." Emily responded, grinning and she ducked instinctively as the contents of the bag came flying towards it. _

_She managed to bat most of the puffs away but a few landed on her shirt and she gasped in mock horror as she saw dusty orange streaks on her white blouse "How could you?" _

"_Like this." JJ said, tossing a few more across the table. _

"_Oh you're on." Emily grinned, grabbing a handful and chucking them back at JJ _

_The blond shrieked, a wild, free shriek that Emily hadn't heard from her friend in a long time. Too long. And she laughed, watching as the light in JJ's eyes shone bright as she grabbed pen this time and lobbed it across the table. _

**Insert Username: **CheetOBreath

She smiled sadly as she entered the username and at the same time she hoped that her friend would recognize the name. It was wrong, selfish of her to send this request but at the same time JJ needed to send it. She couldn't recover like everyone else, because Emily wasn't dead to her like everyone else. She was alive, in France or Germany or Brazil. Some part of JJ hoped that she was in France, in the City of Lights, because whenever the brunette talked about her time in Paris she would smile, a simple, happy smile that indicated that out of the memories from her childhood, Paris was a good one.

**To whom would you like to send an e-mail request: **

The e-mail address had been Emily's idea, amidst the chaos of her 'death' and getting Emily out of the country, the small humor had given JJ a light, a light that the blond had desperately needed. It was still a dark time for everyone, but what they had, that JJ didn't have, was each other. She was back at the Pentagon, trying to live like one of her best friends wasn't 'dead', wasn't half way across the world under another name, another life.

She was still alone.

She got coffee with Garcia when they could, e-mailed Morgan, and Reid, the memories of the twenty something coming to her apartment, sobbing over the loss of a friend, it wasn't enough. Watching Spencer break down night after night, it was a constant reminder of what had happened, the lie that she was living.

And she wanted to tell him, more than anything she wanted to tell the grieving man that his friend was not in fact dead. But she couldn't, couldn't do it, couldn't risk Emily's life, couldn't face the hatred that she knew would come from Spencer. So she was forced into silence.

**Are you sure you want to send request: **YES

It was sent.

JJ leaned back in her chair, running a hand through the strands of air that had escaped her bun. It was later than normal for JJ to be at the office, especially now that she worked at the Pentagon. Normally she came to work, did her work, and went home but tonight, tonight she couldn't put on the mask. She couldn't go home and force a smile on her lips, she couldn't stay up, waiting for Reid's inevitable appearance. She couldn't do it.

And so she had sought out a way to deal with her emotions, trying to find a way to handle the guilt, handle the sorrow and handle the loss. The firing range didn't work, unloading clip after clip of ammo into a paper target did nothing but frustrate her. Running and boxing helped for short periods of time, but she needed a more permanent solution. That was online Scrabble.

Or so she hoped.

Maybe it was foolish, to sit here and hope that halfway across the world Emily Prentiss would accept an anonymous online Scrabble request. Maybe she just needed to move on, accept the fact that Emily was gone, gone and not coming back.

But she couldn't.

She just couldn't do it.

"It's not your fault."

The voice from her doorway surprised the blond and her hand flew instinctively to her hip where the gun no longer rested "Hotch." She sighed "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see how you're doing." He said simply, not one to beat around the bush.

"I'm coping" she replied vaguely

"Alone." Hotch said

"It's not like there's anyone else for me to talk to. I can't talk about what happened without putting her life in danger and I won't do that."

Hotch nodded in agreement, she was right after all however that didn't mean that she needed to suffer alone "I know." He said

"Aaron, you didn't come here to remind me that I'm alone. And it's not that I'm thrilled to see you but it's one thirty in the morning, why are you here?"

"Can I sit?" Hotch asked, indicating to the chair across the desk from the blond. JJ indicated he could and he continued "I need to talk about it."

JJ was surprised, of all the years she had worked with Aaron Hotchner never once had he indicated that he wanted to talk, about anything. Not even after Hailey had died and he was attempting to figure out what his life was going to be, he hadn't come to her. This was different, they were connected by a lie that they were living, one that was eating both of them alive as they struggled to watched their teammates handle their grief "So do I." she sighed "But what is there to say Aaron? She's gone, halfway around the world but to everyone that knows her, that knows us, she's dead. There's nothing to talk about." She knew her bitterness had seeped into her voice but she didn't' care, it felt good to talk about it.

"Maybe you're right."

"Come on Hotch. " JJ spat "You didn't apply for access to my office three days ago to come here after hours, when we would be the only ones around, just to do this. What's your game?"

Hotch smiled "I'm here to offer you a job."

She wasn't expecting that "A job?"

"As a profiler."

"A profiler, for the BAU?"

"Yes."

"Why?" It was the essential question for JJ, to go back to the BAU would mean living the lie to a more extreme degree, but it meant no longer being alone.

It meant being back with Garcia and Reid and Rossi and Morgan but it also meant being back with the scum of the earth. It meant the nightmares would return and the sleepless nights would as well, it meant less time with Henry and more time on the road "I don't need an answer right away." He said

"No." JJ said, shaking her head "I can give you one now."

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><p><em>Fin. <em>


	2. Hands Down

**Title: Hands Down **

**Author: LogicBomb.32 **

**Ships: Emily/JJ friendSHIP **

**Summary: **This game, this random, blue moon of a game request, that may or may not be from Jennifer Jareau, this gave her hope.

**Authors Note: There was not supposed to be a second part to this however I thought that it could use second chapter from Emily's POV. Tell me what you thought? Thanks to- Nightlancer600 and jjprentiss- who reviewed the first chapter/part. Enjoy.**

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><p>The City of Lights.<p>

There was a reason she had chosen Paris, out of her three options, as her place to live. A person could easily get lost in the city, and not just geographically, you could blend in with the crowd, and soon the days would blur together until finally you are naught but a soul amongst the masses. It is that which Emily Prentiss wanted. She felt listless, restless and paranoid all at the same time, each emotion fighting for dominance. It was exhausting.

And so she walked, hands tucked into pockets, clenched around the grip of the gun that she had been given, a final parting gift from a friend

_The contents of the Cheeto stained manila envelope sat on her bed, three passports and documents to match, three drivers licenses, three bundles of cash money, and, most unexpectedly of all, a gun. It was a Browning Semi-Automatic, not her personal weapon of choice but that was besides the point. _

_The point was- _

_Emily picked up the gun feeling the weight of it in her hands, the way the grip seemed to fit with the contours of her palm, how natural it felt and she couldn't help but wonder. Had JJ done this when she was at the gun store? Had she held it in her hands, examined it like she was doing now? Had she run a finger down the length of the barrel? Had she practiced with it before enclosing it in the envelope with the rest of the goods? _

_Her finger caught on the firing pin block and Emily was dragged out of her questions, attention brought back to the gun as a whole. And for some reason the dark haired former FBI agent was enormously glad that she had this gun. Not just because of the safety it gave her but because of the link to her old life it also provided. It represented who she had been, who she would always be behind the fake identities and the lies, Supervisory Special Agent Emily Prentiss. _

The gun went everywhere with her, tucked into the back of her pants or in a pocket, it was always there. Reminding her never to be comfortable, always to look over her shoulder because the lies existed for a reason, a very real, very dangerous reason that would continue to haunt her.

She rounded a corner and caught site of her destination, a small pay-by-the-hour internet café. She didn't have a computer, or a cell phone for that matter, living off the grid as possible for a few years had been her intention. Had been. But she couldn't help herself from venturing into these café's and spending an hour or two simply browsing. Most of the time she would spend hours following the BAU's progress through press releases and editorials. It was stupid of her, all of this work had been, was being, put into her death and here she was Google-ing her old life.

But she couldn't help it, she simply had to do it.

But today there was something different, an e-mail from an online Scrabble website **CheetOBreath has sent you a game reque-** her mouse rested above the delete button for a moment but she looked back at the message preview and thought better.

She opened the e-mail on a hunch and wondered if it could possibly be, not that she knew anyone else who actually ate Cheetos anymore besides a certain blond former media liaison.

**Click this link to accept your game invitation **

She clicked.

**Create Username**

She leaned back into the hard plastic chair, when she was a kid her go to username was _E_P_rocketdog. _She had come up with it on a plane ride, one of the many she had been forced on back in her youth, and it had carried on, throughout her adolescence and, not that she would admit it, into her adulthood. She wished she could use it now, but, like everything else, it was a danger, to herself, to the people who were protecting her secret.

**Create Username: DoorKicker_76**

**Password: **

This was easy.

**Password: ***********

**Congratulations you have successfully created an account, click the link below to go directly to your game. **

Click.

For the first time in two and a half long weeks, Emily Prentiss smiled, scratch that, it was the second time. The first time had come when a tabby cat had followed her home from the park one evening, now named Sir Ego, he was the one good thing in her life. This game, this random, blue moon of a game request, that may or may not be from Jennifer Jareau, this gave her hope.

Her letters however did not:

**Q P Y A G S F**

What the hell is she supposed to do with those letters? Seriously now, Q P Y A G S F, the least the game could have done was give her a U or not so shitty letters. Shit seemed to be the theme of her life recently. After debating for a moment, and some serious anagram solving on her part(oh how she wished Reid was here to help her) she put down her tiles and pressed send

**GASP **

Hardly a word worthy of her opening turn but, in a way, Emily laughed, imaging JJ getting the **It's Your Turn!** E-mail and seeing her play as **GASP**. Maybe she was going crazy? Seeing that her time was coming to an end Emily logged out and walked over to the cashier "Avez-vous une sorte de laissez-passer mensuel?"

(Do you have some sort of monthly pass?)

The teenage cashier looked up at her and indicated to the wall behind her and answered "Oui."

(Yes.)

"Combien ca coute?"

(How much does it cost?)

"Douze Euros."

(Twelve Euros.)

Emily took a moment fishing around in her pocket before pulling out the necessary amount, sure it was probably slightly reckless but for a moment, just this moment, she didn't care. Swip-able card tucked safely in her pocket Emily Prentiss, now known to this internet café as Claire Deville, walked out of the café and into the street.

It was a cool evening, a light wind ruffled the few remaining leaves and provided enough of chill that Emily once again buried her hands in her pockets. Fingers once again curled around the grip of the gun and once again the familiar sense of paranoia set it. Some things never changed, but at least those that did got better, sort of.

This connection, faint and dangerous as it was, seemed to be what she needed. It revitalized her, reminded her of the promise she had made, to JJ and to herself, the promise to not give up and never to lose who she was. And if she was being honest with herself, these past two, almost three, weeks had been spent moping and, well, losing herself.

Perhaps it was chance or perhaps it was something else, but Jennifer Jareau had always been more perceptive than was probably healthy (but why she wasn't a profiler was her own choice, but she would be a damn good one) and apparently even the entire Atlantic Ocean couldn't stop her. Emily smiled again, this wasn't D.C. and she wasn't an FBI agent, but she was alive, her friends (for the most part) were alive as was her family, she could be happy. It would just take time.

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><p><em>This is the end, possibly. Unless I think more scrabble is needed. <em>

_Haha, thanks for reading. _

LogicBomb.32


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